Suspicion
by phantom flair
Summary: The events of Turnabout Sisters Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Episode 2, from Miles Edgeworth's point of view. Edgeworth's meticulously constructed life begins to crumble with the appearance of his childhood friend, Phoenix Wright.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: Playing the first Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney game, I was struck by all of the feelings that Miles Edgeworth must have felt: hatred, conceit, humiliation, rage, despair, regret, anger, guilt, shame. With that in mind, this story is the first of what I hope will be a series exploring Edgeworth's journey through the events of this game.

Please note that there are heavy spoilers in this story for Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, in particular Episode 2 (Turnabout Sisters). Also, these characters are the property of Capcom. Don't own them, but am fond enough that I'll write about them!

And finally, thank you Tarma for all your help in refining this work!

**Suspicion - Chapter 1  
**

**September 5, 4:30 PM  
District Court  
Courtroom No. 3**

"This court finds the defendant... GUILTY."

I listened with satisfaction as the bang of the gavel signaled the end of the trial.

With that, the silence of the courtroom was shattered and replaced by that of the gallery's occupants, all talking at once.

"That bastard was found guilty! Good thing the judge wasn't fooled by his lies."  
"So the prosecution wins again. Mr. Edgeworth has never lost a case."  
"Wow, that's quite the suit he's got on there. He sure knows how to dress."

I snapped open my briefcase and sweeping up the Evidence List, as well as my other notes for the trial, I carefully placed them inside.

"Congratulations, Mr. Edgeworth."

I looked up from my briefcase and into the eyes of Lana Skye. She stood ramrod straight and was dressed in her impeccable brown skirt suit, her medals neatly pinned on.

"Thank you very much, Ms. Skye," I replied, carefully. It was a surprise to see the Chief Prosecutor here at the conclusion of what had been a run-of-the-mill trial. "What brings you here today?"

A tight smile pulled at her lips. "Well, it's exactly as I said, Miles. I'm here to congratulate you."

I looked at her, puzzled. "About what?"

"Your successful prosecution of this case. And the fact that you've done so twenty-four times previously as well." She looked me straight in the eye. "Yes, I've kept track. That's quite the record. You should be proud. Gant and I would like to invite you out to dinner tonight, to celebrate."

Dinner with the Chief Prosecutor _and_ the Chief of Police. Not exactly an invitation I could refuse. 

"Meet us at 7:00 this evening at Cafe Pinot."

"Of course. I'll be there."

**  
September 5, 7:00 PM  
Cafe Pinot  
Dining Room**

I entered the restaurant at precisely 7:00, and saw that Lana and Gant were already seated. Two glasses of white wine were on the table, and in Gant's case, the glass was already half-empty. Clearly the two had set their meeting time earlier.

There had been a time when I was absolutely convinced that Damon Gant and Lana Skye were having an affair. Back when Lana was an investigator, there was something so... intense about the way these two had worked together. When Lana had been promoted to Chief Prosecutor by Gant, despite having worked the past few years as a detective with the Police Department, instead of as a prosecutor, that only served to corroborate the rumors.

Still, although I had made discreet requests of my more trustworthy contacts within the Police Department to keep a watchful eye on them, I was never able to obtain any evidence that confirmed these rumors. And now, I was quite convinced the converse was true -- that if there had been a relationship between the two of them before, it had definitely stopped.

Maybe it was because Lana had gotten the position that she wanted. Maybe now that they worked apart, things had fizzled between the two of them.

What I was sure of, however, was that ever since Lana had become Chief Prosecutor, the drive and enthusiasm that previously surrounded her had drained away. It is actually quite unpleasant when one's boss seems to be a hollow shell.

I approached their table and was greeted by a hearty chuckle and a slap on the back by Gant. I had to remember to suppress my grimace.

"Worthy, now, you made it out!" Gant gestured at the third seat at the table. "Have a seat. I was wondering if you were going to join us tonight. All I see from you is work, work, work. Sometimes I worry about you, my boy."

I smiled wanly at that comment. "Sir, you know best out of anyone how demanding this work can get."

Gant chuckled again at that.

I perused the menu. Gant certainly enjoyed exquisite things (not even I would have dreamed of putting a pipe organ in my office!) and his taste in food was no exception. He ordered a filet mignon, medium-rare, Lana ordered the risotto, and I decided to go with the salmon fillet.

"So you're up to number twenty-five," Gant remarked. "I see you're following right in the footsteps of von Karma. Haven't missed a beat so far." He leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of his wine. "You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger."

"How so?" I asked.

Gant looked straight at me.

"We're both ruthless," he said simply. "I can't begin to describe how valuable it's been for us in the PD to know there's an attorney we can count on to finish the job we've started and put these bastards behind bars. Unlike some of your colleagues."

He smiled, although I noted that his eyes did not. "I know I can count on you, Worthy."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your feedback," I said, meeting Gant's intense gaze. But my stomach was turning at what felt like hollow praise from Damon Gant.

The truth was that I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Why on earth had Gant invited me out tonight anyway? During my four years in the Prosecutor's Office, the one thing I had learned was that the guys at the top were not nice people. Sometimes I wondered exactly what Gant wanted from me...

"You've been doing well for yourself," Gant continued, after a moment's silence. "Especially after that case a couple years ago, the SL-9 case. That case really made you." His lips twitched into what looked like a smirk.

Hearing that name again -- "SL-9" -- brought this unease I was feeling into sudden focus. It was after that case that the rumors had started -- accusations of forged evidence, back-alley deals, the Demon Prosecutor. I had felt the same sense of unease at that time as well.

The "Demon Prosecutor" moniker, I could live with -- it had an intimidating flair to it, after all. And von Karma himself was the God of Prosecutors.

But forged evidence -- _forged evidence_?? Despite von Karma's guidance on this topic and the regularity with which he did so, it was the one technique of his I could not bring myself to use. 

The importance of evidence -- no, the _sanctity_ of evidence -- was something my father had taught me about over and over again. 

Those damned rumors had started after SL-9... and the man who had been in charge of it all during this unsettling time was none other than Damon Gant.

Interestingly, I could see from the look on Lana's face that her discomfort at this topic echoed mine.

Little did I know, after I had bid goodbye to Lana Skye and Damon Gant, thanking them for dinner and standing by my car under the cloudy L.A. night sky, that the unease I had felt tonight would only be a warning of things to come.

**  
September 6, 7:15 AM  
High Prosecutor's Office  
Room 1202**

"Boyfriend acquitted of murder charge."

I had settled comfortably into my office chair with a steaming cup of tea in my right hand and the newest edition of _The Legal Times_ magazine opened neatly on my desk. That headline caught my eye, in part because the word _acquitted_ was one I quite disliked. I skimmed the article.

"...the defendant, Larry Butz, 23...  
...Cindy Stone, a model whom Butz had been dating at the time, died of blunt trauma to the head...  
...during the court proceedings, it was discovered that one of the prosecution's witnesses, Frank Sahwit, was the actual murderer..."

Larry Butz. I hadn't realized he was still around in Los Angeles. Our old saying came back to me: "If something smells, it's usually the Butz." Somehow I wasn't surprised that he had managed to date some C-list model _and_ get himself charged with murder, of all things. I eyed the trial date -- it had taken place last month. 

I noted with little surprise that it had been that idiot Payne who was prosecuting. Whatever his reputation was previously, he had clearly lost the killer instinct needed to be a successful prosecutor. Poorly coached witnesses, infrequent objections, timid courtroom presence. The antithesis of being perfectly prepared, which had been drilled into me by none other than the legendary Manfred von Karma.

"...Butz's defense attorney, Phoenix Wright, stated after the trial, "What matters is that we found out what truly took place." This was Wright's first case..."

I blinked at seeing that name.

_Phoenix Wright_?  
  
What is he doing in my world? And why? 

_Brrring_!  
  
The sound of the phone ringing cut into my train of thought. I eyed the Call Display warily, but seeing the name "L Skye" appear, I picked up the phone. 

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," I said.

"Miles, I have a new case for you to prosecute." Lana paused for a moment. "It's a murder case. Mia Fey was found murdered in her office and her younger sister, Maya, has been charged."

"Mia Fey was murdered?"

"Yes, that's right. Detective Gumshoe is on the case. He knows the details."

I placed the phone slowly back into the cradle, stunned.

As Gant and Lana had reminded me, after having prosecuted twenty plus cases, some of the details can blur at times. But the excitement and trepidation I had felt before my first case had etched that one in my mind, and how could I possibly forget the also-rookie adversary I had faced? Mia Fey, dead, four years into this work...

Was my time coming as well?

I looked down at my tea cup, filled with now cold and tasteless tea, and picked up the phone again. "Gumshoe, we need to meet about this new case."

**  
September 6, 8:20 AM  
Detention Center  
Questioning Room**

I breezed into the Questioning Room, calmly sat in the available chair, carefully placed my briefcase down beside me, and looked the suspect straight in the eye. These were movements I knew by rote, yet another one of the many details that von Karma had so painfully taught me. When you question witnesses, you are the one in charge. Your posture, your demeanor, your dress, your eye contact all announce that. An intimidated suspect is one who is more likely to tell the truth about their dastardly deeds, after all.

This wasn't my typical suspect, however.

Slumped in the chair was our young suspect, Maya Fey. Unlike her older sister, who carried herself with a quiet confidence, Maya just looked defeated... and that was before I had started questioning her. She met my eyes briefly, but soon resumed staring at the ground. 

I cleared my throat. "Maya Fey."

She looked up at me again, and I could see her eyes were red and puffy. No doubt she had been up all night crying.

"My name is Miles Edgeworth and I am the prosecutor for your case. I note that as of this moment you do not have an attorney. I have some questions to ask you about last night."

She blinked in response.

"What were you doing at the Fey & Company offices last night?"

"I... I was there to visit my sister. She asked me to come. We were going to go out for burgers."

"Was there any other reason why you went to see your sister?" I asked.

"She..." Maya paused, and tears began to well in her eyes. "She wanted me to hold onto a statue that she had used for one of her court cases."

I thought back to the evidence that Detective Gumshoe had amassed, and mentally confirmed that we had already acquired "The Thinker."

"So what happened when you got to the office?"

Maya's eyes widened, and her voice quivered as she spoke. "I got to the office... it was quiet... there was stuff all over the place... and I saw Mia just... slumped on the floor..." She was now outright sobbing.

I stood up from the chair, drew myself up to my full height, and glared down at my suspect. "Did you do it?" I hissed. My voice was cold and controlled, exactly as it should be.

"No... of course not..." were the only intelligible words I could hear between her sobs.

At that, I stepped back. What the hell was I doing bullying this 17 year old girl who barely looked thirteen? She's just Franziska's age...

I sighed, and bent down to collect my briefcase. There were still other witnesses to see, and evidence to go through. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Fey. That is all I need from you right now."

**  
September 6, 1:30 PM  
Gatewater Hotel**

I pulled into the parking lot of the Gatewater Hotel. I noted that the hotel offered valet parking, but ever since I had gotten my new sports car, the thought of anyone else even _touching_ it was rather distasteful. 

Gumshoe had briefed me on our key witness, Miss April May. According to him, Miss May claimed to have seen Maya Fey kill her sister through the window of this very hotel room. Gumshoe had been insistent on keeping Miss May sequestered here. Hence my trip out to the Gatewater Hotel.

I approached Room 303 and knocked on the door. Opening the door was a woman who appeared to be in her thirties, but whose make-up and clothing tried (and failed miserably) to make her look about ten years younger. Pink hair, pink suit, and her chest was literally spilling out of her blouse. I sighed. I had learned early on in my career that there was only so much one could do to convince witnesses to present themselves in a respectable fashion. It was patently clear that Miss May was quite attached to her personal style. I was suddenly reminded of one of the most difficult witnesses I had put on the stand, an older psychotic gentleman whose illness left him so indifferent to personal hygiene that his feet emitted the most malodorous stench imaginable. Was it too much to expect that he would bathe before appearing in court the next day? Apparently so. Suffice it to say, that trial was the shortest one I had ever prosecuted. I had never seen a courtroom clear out more quickly, myself included.

Well, compared to _that_, I thought, surely Miss May would be more tolerable. 

"Miss April May?" I inquired.

"Oh yes, that's me." I didn't even think it was possible that her voice could be just as bouncy as her breasts. "What's a handsome man like you doing knocking on my door?"

I decided to ignore that. "Miss May, my name is Miles Edgeworth and I am the prosecutor for the Fey murder case. I understand you met Detective Gumshoe earlier?"

"Yes, of course," she replied. "I couldn't possibly forget meeting such a _virile_ cop." 

Witnesses that hit on everyone involved in the investigation always make me leery. I couldn't help but wonder what Miss May had said to Gumshoe earlier, seeing as he had been blushing as he described his conversation with her.

"I'm here to review your testimony in preparation for the trial tomorrow," I said. "May I come in for a moment?"

She gestured me in with a brilliant smile.

"Miss May, could you tell me a little bit about yourself, and what brought you to the Gatewater Hotel yesterday?"

"Well, I'm here on _business_." 

"What sort of business?" I asked.

"I'm here with my boss, Mr. Redd White. He's the CEO of Bluecorp Inc. I think he's here for some sort of business deal? Anyway, I'm just here to help him out."

It all sounded rather vague to me. Suspiciously so, actually.

"What does Mr. White and Bluecorp do, exactly?"

"I don't know that much about that. I'm just his secretary. But Mr. White is a very knowledgeable man. And people pay him because of this!" Her breasts continued to bounce as she spoke.

This _definitely_ was sounding suspicious. Not the sort of thing I wanted to have complicating my case tomorrow, especially if it wasn't necessary for the verdict. "Miss May, let's leave out what you and your boss do from your testimony tomorrow. Please tell me what you saw of the murder." 

"Wow, it's so exciting being a _witness_! And to have a lawyer like you asking me all these questions..." 

I had to cut her off at that. "I'm sorry, Miss May, I don't have very much time today. There's still a lot I need to do to prepare for the trial tomorrow. If you could tell me about what you saw of the murder...?"

She pouted at that. "It was just itty-bitty me all by my lonesome in this room last night. We got here at noon yesterday, but Mr. White had lots of things to do and he was out."

"How come you weren't out with him?" I asked.

"Well, you know... I needed some time to rest and refresh myself."

"Do you know what Mr. White was doing?"

She shrugged. "Just... business stuff? Sorry, I don't know exactly where he was yesterday."

"So what did you see last night?"

"Well, I was by myself in this room. I had just ordered ice coffee through room service and the bellboy brought it up at 9 o'clock sharp. I gave him a thank you kiss and then he left. That's when I heard a loud noise! I looked out the window and saw that girl with this terrible look on her face! She was holding a small statue and used it to hit that woman who died!" Miss May finished her story with a dramatic sigh at the end.

"Can you tell me more about this girl?" I asked.

Miss May looked crestfallen. "I really couldn't see her that well."

I stopped at that. "But you could see the murder weapon?"

She nodded. "Well, I could see it looked like a statue."

"It would be good if you could describe to the court tomorrow what you just told me," I said. "It's not necessary to give a lot of details when you're on the stand, just the important ones." I paused. "Is Mr. White around? I'd like to speak with him."

She shook her head. "He checked out already this morning. I'm still here just because the police asked me to stay."

I sighed. Mr. White was not shaping up to be an easy person to track down. I'd have to get Gumshoe on it.

"Let's leave Mr. White out of your testimony tomorrow, Miss May. If he wasn't involved, as you say, then let's not mention him at all."

She nodded in agreement at that -- a little too quickly, I thought.

"Now, I know Detective Gumshoe said that there was someone else who was around -- the bellboy for your room. Would you mind ringing for him? I'd like to speak with him as well." I smiled. "I would _greatly_ appreciate it, Miss May." 

"Sure thing, handsome," she replied. "I'm just going to step out for a bit, okay?"

"Have a good afternoon," I said, firmly. Would this woman ever stop? "I won't be here for much longer."

I had only sat down for a few moments when the bellboy appeared at the door. He carried himself with a stiff air, and was dressed immaculately. I was vaguely impressed at his promptness. I was more impressed, however, by the carefully polished silver tea set that he was carrying.

I stood up, and extended my hand for a handshake. "Thank you for coming so quickly. My name is Miles Edgeworth. I am a prosecutor, and am currently investigating a murder case. I understand you are a bellboy for this hotel?"

"Yes, sir!" he replied.

"Miss May says that you helped bring her something last night. Could you tell me a little about that?"

"Of course, sir! How could I forget the lovely Miss May?"

"Yes, she is lovely, isn't she?" I echoed, trying hard not to roll my eyes at that. "What happened last night?"

"Well, I got a call from Miss May yesterday requesting that ice coffee for two be brought to her room at exactly 9 o'clock. And so that's what I did yesterday."

"Ice coffee for two?" I mused. "Was there anyone else in the room at the time?"

"Oh, you mean her partner?" The bellboy looked somewhat downcast as he said that.

"Partner...?" I let that word trail off, prompting him to continue.

"Well, I guess I don't really know that he's her partner," the bellboy said, sheepishly. "But anyway, there was a man that Miss May checked in with yesterday."

_Ah yes, the mysterious Mr. White_.  
  
"Could you tell me a little more about this man?" 

"He was... dressed in a suit?" the bellboy supplied. "I didn't pay that much attention to him. Not with Miss May standing beside him."

_This guy is a fool_...  
  
"I don't expect I'll need you to testify tomorrow," I told the bellboy. "But in case I do end up summoning you, please just tell them about bringing the ice coffee for Miss May." I looked him straight in the eye. "Don't mention anything about Miss May's... partner, unless you're asked." 

"Yes, sir!" the bellboy replied.

"Thank you for your time," I said, taking my leave. I stepped out of the hotel room and pulled out my cell phone, pressing the speed dial for Gumshoe.

"Yes, sir?" Gumshoe asked.

"Gumshoe, I've just had a chance to speak with Miss May and the bellboy here at the Gatewater Hotel. I need to ask you about Miss May's employer, Redd White. Why have you not spoken to him at all?"

Gumshoe sounded confused. "Who, sir?"

"Redd White," I repeated. "Both Miss May and the bellboy mentioned him. That means his name could come up tomorrow. So we need to speak to him."

"Well, Miss May was quite clear that Mr. White was not in the hotel room when she witnessed the murder. The bellboy had the same story," Gumshoe said. "I guess I didn't think I needed to talk to him at all."

"Seeing as we haven't spoken to him, and don't know anything about him... you're right -- I'm not putting him on the witness stand. Frankly, I think it's better if his name isn't mentioned at all tomorrow, period, and I've instructed Miss May and the bellboy about this. But Gumshoe, _I don't like missing pieces_ in the investigation," I said, curtly. 

"Go and find Mr. White. I'll meet you back at Criminal Affairs later."

**  
September 6, 5:30 PM  
Criminal Affairs  
Meeting Room**

I rubbed my temples, feeling the first hint of a tension-type headache coming on. For the past two hours, Gumshoe and I had been poring over the evidence that had been collected, our impressions of the crime scene, as well as comparing our witness interviews. Gumshoe had clearly been more impressed by April May than I had been.

"Did you have a chance to speak to Mr. White?" I asked.

Gumshoe looked dejected. "I tried to, sir! But just as I was trying to find him I got a message from Chief Gant that I was not to bother Mr. White at all." His shoulders slumped. "He said that if I spoke to him, that there would be some 'unpleasant changes' to my pension."

I frowned. That made two of us. Earlier this afternoon I had received an e-mail from Lana making it quite clear that our investigation was not to look into one Mr. Redd White. My decision to have clearly instructed April May and the bellboy not to mention Redd White in their testimony tomorrow seemed surprisingly prescient now. At any rate, however, there was some unwanted interference going on with this investigation. And straight from the Chiefs? I didn't like it one bit. 

"Well, I'll just have to make sure that Mr. White's name isn't brought up tomorrow," I said.

Gumshoe continued to look at me with his signature hang-dog look. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I really did try."

"It's _fine_, Gumshoe," I said, giving an exasperated sigh. The man would probably jump off the top of Los Angeles City Hall if I ordered him to. "I'm not going to order you to do something that will get you a pay cut." 

_Because goodness knows he has no trouble doing that on his own_! 

I turned my attention to the evidence that Gumshoe had laid out on the table: the "Thinker" statue, the list of numbers on Maya's cell phone, Mia Fey's autopsy report...

I came to the receipt with the name "Maya" written clumsily in blood. Even to me it seemed somewhat comical in its heavy handedness.

"Hey, there's that memo! All the proof's right there!" Gumshoe said, excited. "Isn't that great? How often do we get evidence that literally tells us the name of the killer?"

When something looks too good to be true...

"Gumshoe, first of all, please stop calling it a memo. This name is clearly written on a store receipt. Secondly, the problem with that receipt is that it's not possible that Mia Fey wrote this in her dying seconds, as you claim. Our autopsy report states that she died _instantaneously_." 

"Oh," he said, crestfallen. "I guess I hadn't thought of that, boss. So what do we do?"

"Well, get another autopsy done," I snapped. "Instantaneously is a strong word. How can the pathologist be that sure? If we aren't able to get a second autopsy report, there's no point even presenting the receipt. If that contradiction comes to light tomorrow in court, this receipt won't mean a damn thing. And I don't particularly want to have to dance around an issue like that tomorrow."

"Yes sir. I'll arrange that right now." Gumshoe moved to the phone in the room and began phoning the Medical Examiner's office.

I leaned back in my chair as Gumshoe was animatedly relaying my request. _So we will meet tomorrow, Phoenix Wright_. Despite Gumshoe's insistence earlier in the day that he had met Miss Fey's lawyer already and that he was "some guy in a blue suit with spiky black hair," I had only received news about an hour ago that the defense attorney would be Phoenix Wright. I couldn't help but wonder what had driven Phoenix to become a lawyer, and even stranger still, that we should face each other in court. Becoming an attorney had been _my_ life's ambition. Back in grade school, Phoenix had dreamed of becoming a movie star. And Larry... well, Larry had no ambitions at all. 

My life's ambition hadn't just been to become an attorney... but specifically a defense attorney... 

What would Wright be like as an opponent? I rembered the article I had read earlier today. Wright did win his very first court case. Granted, it had been against Payne, but _still_... 

"Gumshoe, I'm going to go back to my office. I need to look into the defense attorney for this case."

"How come, sir?"

"He's a new defense attorney and I... don't know much about him," I said, realizing how carefully I was choosing my words at this. "I want to know exactly who I'll be up against in court tomorrow."

"Sure thing, boss," Gumshoe replied. But then he turned back and looked at me inquisitively. "Are you okay, sir? You sound a little worried about this case."

_An understatement, if there ever was one_... 

"It's just another case," I finally said. "Gumshoe, get all the evidence back to your locker. I'll see you tomorrow at court."


	2. Chapter 2

September 7, 10:00 AM  
District Court  
Courtroom No. 1

There was no denying I was feeling nervous about this trial. And the reason why was standing directly opposite myself.

Fifteen years since I had last seen my childhood friend. Fifteen long years (and counting) since I had felt anything resembling peace with myself.

He still had the telltale spiky hair, but it was even more accentuated now. The roundness of his nine year old face was gone, replaced by prominent cheekbones and a well-defined jaw. His suit, I noted, was truly deplorable. It was cheap, shoddy, and purchased off-the-rack.

_What about me? How would Wright say that have I changed?_

I pushed that thought out of my mind. I had a court case to prosecute, after all.

Smoothly, I presented my opening statement, and brought Dick Gumshoe to the stand. Having worked with Gumshoe on three other cases before this one, I knew enough to be somewhat cautious introducing Gumshoe to the court.

You would think that one wouldn't have to worry about bringing your case's chief officer to the stand. But as totally devoted that Gumshoe was to myself, and as willing as he was to do my every bidding, he still had a tendency to say idiotic things in court.

It meant I had to be even more vigilant, just to stamp out any fires his testimony had a tendency to ignite.

Like -- I noted -- not even mentioning in his testimony that bloody receipt he couldn't stop talking about all day yesterday!

"Hold it!" Wright's voice rang out through the courtroom as he was now cross-examining Gumshoe and dissecting every single line of his testimony.

_Just like his mentor, Mia Fey..._

"You said you arrested Maya Fey because you had 'hard evidence,' am I correct?" Wright asked Gumshoe. "Exactly what about this suspicious woman in pink's claim was 'hard evidence'?"

I smirked at that. Obviously Wright and I had a similar impression of one April May. Well, at least Wright was being diligent in terms of speaking with witnesses. Because on the other hand, his cross-examination skills truly left something to be desired. There is no need to interrupt every single line of testimony, especially if you have nothing good to say! It would be a very long day in court if I let that go completely unchecked...

Gumshoe looked sheepish at that. "Sorry, Your Honor. There was something else I should have told you about first!" He then launched into the details of the memo with the killer's name on it.

As Wright proceeded with his cross-examination of Gumshoe's new testimony, it became clear to me that his plan was to suggest that Maya Fey had been framed. And of course Gumshoe was getting all caught up in Wright's suggestions...

"Don't you find it a little odd that that the victim would write down a name? Especially that of her own _sister_?" Wright queried. 

Gumshoe was looking progressively more confused. "Ah, yeah, actually, you got a point there, pal."

_Time to stop this line of questioning..._

"Objection!" I looked Wright straight in the eye, then turned my gaze over to the Judge. Our good Judge, I knew, was easily swayed by a little theatrics -- a good suit, a confident demeanor, sweeping hand gestures. It was why I had created quite the collection of them.

"The witness' opinion on the matter is irrelevant. The facts are clear: the victim wrote down the name of the accused." I paused, then slammed the desk for effect. "The victim told us the name of her killer!"

The courtroom began buzzing at that.

"Objection!" Wright shouted, then turned to Gumshoe again. "Detective Gumshoe," he said, slowly. "You say that the victim, Mia Fey, wrote this note?"

"Of course she wrote it!" Gumshoe said. "Who else could have?"

Wright shook his head. I could see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "You have it backwards, Detective. The victim is the only person who absolutely could NOT have written it." He produced a sheet of paper, and showed it to the court. "This is a report from your department, Detective. 'Immediate death due to a blow from a blunt object.'" Wright pointed an accusing finger towards Gumshoe. "She died immediately, so she couldn't have written the note!"

_Gumshoe!_ Right in the middle of my trial was not when I wanted to find out that he had been giving out our reports to the other side. I had told him countless times _not_ to speak with the defense lawyers on our cases. But it was so like the guileless detective to speak to anybody and everybody about his investigation. 

I pulled the second autopsy report from my stack of papers, which I had received earlier this morning directly from the Medical Examiner's office. Wright was sharp enough to realize the problem with the first autopsy report, I noted. Not bad on his part, but not good enough.

"Objection!" I called out. "Mr. Wright, when exactly did you obtain that autopsy report?"

"The day after the murder," he replied.

I shook my head in response. "It is with some regret that I have to let you know that autospy report is outdated. A second autopsy was performed yesterday, at my request." I held the report up for the court to see, and read aloud the passage I had highlighted earlier. "'Death was _almost_ immediate due to a blow from a blunt object, but there is a possibility that the victim lived for several minutes after the blow.'" 

Wright looked shocked after hearing the report's contents.

"Mr. Edgeworth," he said, carefully. "I've heard there's nothing you won't do to get your verdict. What reason could you possibly have had to request a second autopsy report?"

"Mr. Wright!" the Judge exclaimed, looking aghast. "You will refrain from personal attacks on the prosecution!"

I shrugged. How many times had I heard this before? Although it was somewhat odd to be hearing it from the very green Phoenix Wright, during his second court case, of all things.

I had an uncomfortable realization that Wright must have been keeping a watchful eye on me -- and for a disturbingly long time, considering the last time we had spoken was when we were in grade school!

"No matter, Your Honor," I replied coolly, then turned to address Wright again, punctuating every syllable. "Mr. Wright, say what you will, the _evidence_ in this report is undeniable." I presented the autopsy report to the Judge with a flourish, then paused. It was time to call April May to the stand. 

"Witness, your name, please," I said.

"April May, at your service!" She winked at the crowd, and shook her chest. Chatter suddenly filled the courtroom again.

I breathed a sigh of relief at that. Luckily, Miss May had understood my advice to her yesterday that "first impressions when you come to the stand are very important." Not that I particularly enjoyed the winking and coy glances of April May, but I had anticipated that it would give me the advantage of allowing me to obfuscate certain details, like her occupation -- that of working for Bluecorp, the rather dubious purpose of this company, and her employer.

"Tell us, where were you on the night of September 5, when the murder occurred?" I asked Miss May, indicating to her to start testifying about the murder. She briefly reviewed looking out her hotel window the night of the murder, and seeing that "mousey girl" attack Mia Fey.

Sparse on details, exactly as we had discussed...

After Miss May finished, I turned to the Judge, looking at him expectantly. "Well, Your Honor?"

He nodded thoughtfully. "A remarkably solid testimony. I don't see a need to trouble the witness any-"

Wright looked stunned at that. "Wait, Your Honor! What about my cross-examination?"

The Judge had a skeptical expression. "I thought the witness' testimony was quite firm. Will you still cross-examine the witness?" he asked.

"I'll gladly proceed with the cross-examination," Wright replied.

_Damn_. Well, it was a nice attempt to see if I could stop another tedious cross-examination from beginning altogether. Although remembering what I did of Wright and his stubborness, there was no way he would allow that anyway... 

I watched as Wright proceeded to challenge Miss May on her failure to comment on Maya Fey's unusual dress and hairstyle, eliciting a request from the Judge for Miss May to provide a more detailed testimony.

_This is not good at all_. I quite disliked it when my witnesses were asked to retestify. It always made for added... uncertainty. Particularly because I never knew exactly what they were going to say the second time around. 

"That... that clock!" Miss May was saying, as she was describing the murder weapon. "Um... the kinda statue-y clock. 'The Thinker,' I think?"

I stopped at that. Why did Miss May call that statue a clock? She had mentioned nothing about that yesterday, and I had examined it carefully... there had been nothing about it that suggested it was a clock.

I noticed, interestingly enough, a slight change in Wright's facial expression at Miss May's statement as well. _He's going to press her on that for sure. And where is this going to lead?_

"You just said this statue of "The Thinker" was a clock," Wright said to Miss May, then turned to the Judge. "But there's no way of knowing it just by looking at it!" He pointed an accusing finger at April May. "How did you know it was a clock?"

April May definitely looked like she was desperately trying to think of a plausible answer. "Because... I heard it?" she finally said.

Wright shook his head. "That's not possible," he said, emphatically. "That clock is missing its clockwork! Just have a look!" he told the Judge.

My mind was spinning now. _How did Wright know all of this?_

He had mentioned that this clock had come up for him in a previous case -- seeing as this was only his second case, then it meant that "The Thinker" had been evidence in his first case as well.

I mentally cursed myself for not having had the time to go through the transcript of his first court case. Of course, what was even more striking was why this very unusual piece of evidence should show up in not one, but two of Wright's trials...

Wright was on a roll now. "The 'clock' was empty. It couldn't have rung," he was saying to the court, then paused. "Therefore, this witness is a big, fat liar!"

Yes, there was definitely a look of satisfaction on his face as he said that. Some part of me couldn't help but agree, even if it was my witness that he was denigrating.

It's always an interesting situation for any prosecutor when a trial doesn't go exactly as planned. As much as one can coach your witnesses, deliberate on what evidence to present, and decide how to weave that all together to present a convincing story for the judge, you can never predict what unexpected road-blocks might get in the way. And when they do come, the next best thing to fall back on is logic.

_Time to see how Wright plays this game_... 

"Quite a show you've put on for us, Mr. Wright," I said nonchalantly, gesturing to the court. "I'm afraid you've forgotten one thing, however. Indeed, the clock is empty. However, we must ask: when was the clockwork removed? If it was after the witness heard the clock, then there is no contradiction!"

I noted with some dismay that Wright was completely unruffled by my challenge.

"I have proof," he said, smugly. "And I'll show you the 'proof' you like so much!"

Wright proceeded to present a purple cell phone to the court. "This is the defendant's cell phone, and it contains a recording..."

_What_!? Gumshoe had told me that he had gotten all he could from Maya Fey's cell phone, which was her saved phone numbers. He had mentioned nothing about a recording! 

_This case is spiralling out of my control... and fast..._

Clearly Miss May was feeling the heat as well because she was glaring at Wright. "What's it to you, porcupine head?" she practically spat. "That stupid clock doesn't matter! She did it! And she should die!"

The Judge slammed his gavel down to quiet the courtroom, which became quite abuzz at Miss May's tirade.

"Tell me, how did you know the weapon was a clock?" he asked, once the court had settled down.

Miss May refused to answer.

"Miss May had _heard_ that the weapon was a clock," Wright supplied. He then presented a wire-tap to the court. "Have a look at this!" 

Things were definitely shifting towards the one part of this case that had remained frustratingly a mystery for me. Namely, Bluecorp, Inc.

Miss May had refused to disclose anything more to me about the company's purpose, and there was no information to be had on the company or her boss, Redd White. An unusual lack of information, to be more precise.

And then, of course, were the orders straight from the top not to look into Redd White and his company. There was definitely something that seemed suspicious about Bluecorp, and learning that Miss May had been tapping Mia Fey's phone only served to confirm that suspicion.

"Why the wiretap?" Wright asked Miss May. "Answer the question!"

"Do I have to?" Miss May asked. "Isn't this a murder trial? Isn't tippity-tapping... irrelevant?"

The Judge shook his head in response to Miss May's question. "The defense has a point," he said. "Can you prove you had nothing to do with this murder, even though you tapped her phone?" he asked Miss May.

She smiled. "Of course. The killing happened around 9:00 at night, right? Why, that was just when I was getting room service from that sweet bellboy..."

I sighed at that. I really didn't want to bring the bellboy to the stand. But I would almost certainly have to now that Miss May had brought his name up.

_Well, let's try and direct the court's attention away from that..._

"Ergo, the witness was not on the scene at the time of the murder!" I said, giving a sweeping bow. "It is my great displeasure to inform you that the witness appears to have been tapping the victim's telephone." I slammed the desk to highlight my next point. "However, that is a separate crime, with no bearing on the current case whatsoever! Her testimony stands! She saw the defendant, Maya Fey, commit murder!"

Wright was looking desperate. _You're going to have to say something if you don't want this case to end, Wright..._

"Um, the defense would like to call the bellboy as a witness!" he said.

_Here we go..._

Court ended up recessing for about half an hour as I summoned the bellboy to get to the courtroom as quickly as possible. I was relieved that I had decided to take the time to discuss the bellboy's testimony with him yesterday.

Wright sure was displaying some dogged persistence in getting my witnesses to say more than I would have liked; the problem with that was, that the longer this case went on, the more it would have to move to the topic of the mysterious Bluecorp, Inc. I was sure of that.

The bellboy testified that he had received a call from Miss May requesting iced coffee be brought to her room at 9:00 PM, which he had done. As expected, Wright questioned every single one of the bellboy's statements during his cross-examination. 

"Tsk tsk," I said, shaking my head as Wright came to the end of his cross-examination. "If you have any decency, you will end this rather tedious cross-examination here!"

The Judge nodded in agreement. "The witness may leave the stand now."

"Wait!" Wright called out, his face panic-stricken. "One last question... let me ask one last question."

"Objection!" I said. Unfortunately, I was overruled.

_The only thing that can come of this is that Redd White is going to be brought up..._

"Was someone else staying in Miss May's room?" Wright asked the bellboy.

"Er... yes," he finally replied.

"Why did you not mention this in your testimony?" Wright demanded. "That's the sort of thing you're normally supposed to mention!"

"Ah, yes," the bellboy stuttered. "It was the, er, good barrister there, Mr. Edgeworth, who asked me not to mention it if I wasn't specifically asked about it, sir."

_You fool... that's not the sort of thing you're supposed to answer..._

Wright looked triumphant at that. "We have just learned of another person involved who may have been the murderer!" he announced loudly to the court.

"Who?" I challenged him. Did Wright actually know about Redd White, and had he been more successful in acquiring information about this man? "Who is this other person?"

"The man who checked in with Miss May," Wright replied.

So it was out now for both the Judge and the entire courtroom... that there was some sort of mysterious "man" who had accompanied Miss May. It seemed, however, that Wright was just as much in the dark about Redd White as I.

"I expect the prosecution and the defense to look into this matter more fully," the Judge declared. "Court is adjourned!"


End file.
